


Goodbye Sammy

by morgana07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: After Finale, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grieving Sam, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Spoilers, Upset Sam, can't tag due to spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 06:05:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1677506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morgana07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1-shot. Believing one thing was hard enough but when Sam learns the ultimate truth of what happened to his brother his reaction isn’t what Dean expects. Sam’s also not expecting his reaction to Dean’s last words to him. *Grief-stricken/emotional/shocked!Sam & a still protective….Dean* SPOILERS!!!! Set after 09x23 Do You Believe in Miracles. See note.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodbye Sammy

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:Minor language but the bigger one is I’m tossing a full-box tissue warning on this one for obvious reasons. See Spoiler warning for more on that.
> 
> Tags: I suppose you can say it’s tagged to 09x23 Do You Believe In Miracles but it’s technically set after that finale scene.
> 
> Spoilers: Yes, there are spoilers within so if you haven’t seen the finale yet then do not read this until you have.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. This is written for the enjoyment of fans…or in this case the emotional torment it seems.
> 
> Author Note: I decided I was not going to write for this episode…yeah, the muse and the plot bunnies disagreed and I lost the battle. Granted we all know this probably will not be the reaction but right now I’m still emotionally damaged and still needed brotherly schmoop and sap and yes, I cried so follow that tissue warning unless you guys have more fortitude than I do, lol.

**Goodbye Sammy**

“Son of a bitch! Stupid goddamn demon never comes when you really want him but yet he’s up my ass when I don’t want to see his…”

“Well, and after everything we’ve been through. It’s good to learn how you really feel about me, Moose.”

Whirling at the unexpected sarcastic voice Sam Winchester’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “How…I just used a summoning spell downstairs,” he blinked upon seeing the King of Hell standing in the hallway of the Men of Letters bunker like he belonged there. “Why didn’t you appear down there?”

To say that Sam was a little raw emotionally and spent physically would be the understatement of the century. He’d been running on emotions for months but this last day and night, especially the night before when his world had literally caved in under his feet, had made the hunter raw and emotional.

He’d been struggling with guilt, anger and confusion ever since he learned the truth about his recovery from the Trials; about how his older brother had saved his life and the ultimate cost of that act. He and Dean had been tense, bickering and at times downright hostile with one another and for the entire time Sam knew he’d been lying through his teeth when he’d said that he wouldn’t do anything reckless or risky if he ever had to do something to save his brother’s life.

He just wished it hadn’t come down to that actual moment for him to admit it.

Sam still wore the same clothes he’d had on when it happened; when his life crashed, when he’d felt nearly the same pain as he had the night he’d been forced to watch an invisible hound of hell tell his brother to shreds. The only difference this time is it had been the other side that had taken his brother from him when he’d watched helplessly as Metatron stabbed Dean after he’d beaten and pummeled him nearly to death.

The blood on his shirt had dried but he hadn’t yet been able to bring himself to change or throw the shirt out much for the same reason it had taken him months to throw out the clothes he’d worn when Dean’s deal had come due…it had been Dean’s blood and it hurt to toss anything away that had belonged to his brother, his hero, his idol…and even being 31 years old a piece of Sam still felt like that small boy who’d looked up to his older brother.

In Sam’s mind he still saw the cruel glee in which that damn crazy power hungry angel turned God-wannabe had stabbed Dean. He could see the shock and pain enter his brother’s eyes and then a look of concern and pain of another kind when he’d looked over to see Sam.

The next several moments were a blur in Sam’s mind. He thought he’d tried to stab the bastard but he’d blinked out and then it was just them; just Sam and Dean…like it always had been, like it always would be if Sam had a saw in the matter.

He knew he’d said months earlier that he wouldn’t do the same things that Dean had done to save him but even as he saw the blood soaking through Dean’s shirts, saw the pain, the fear, the acceptance slowly enter green eyes that were glassing over Sam knew it had been a lie.

He’d known when he’d woken up after Dean had landed a cheap shot to knock him out, keeping him out of the fight, that he’d do whatever the hell it took to protect his brother from Metatron and now he’d do whatever it took; spell, deal, con, lie, cheat or steal but he would save Dean.

Sam would find a way to bring his brother back from the dead and if that meant dealing with the smirking asshole demon lord behind him then that was fine with him too.

“Why the hell didn’t you appear where you should’ve when I summoned you, Crowley?” he demanded.

Sam was angry with the newly restored King of Hell because he blamed the demon for getting Dean into this mess since he’d been the one to bring up the whole goddamn Mark of Cain and the First Blade to begin with and now Dean was…was…no, Sam was still too raw to accept it much less even admit the truth to his own brain.

“I probably would have if I already hadn’t been in your precious little hole in the ground 20 minutes before that, Moose,” Crowley responded with his usual snark, smirking at the taller man while running a finger down his pristine dark suit. “You…have a bit…of something on your shirt there.”

“I have my brother’s blood on my shirt, no thanks to you and that goddamn blade and the Mark you got him involved with, you son of a bitch,” Sam gritted, temper on the surface mixing with the burning grief he’d so far managed to push back to a manageable level. He took two steps toward the demon with the intent of wrapping both fists either in his jacket or around his throat; Sam really didn’t care which at this point…when Crowley’s words hit him and he stopped in mid-step. “What…what were you doing here? How’d you even get in? This place is…oh crap.”

Sam cursed him and Dean both for not fixing those wards and sigils when they’d brought Crowley here to keep him prisoner before.

“You really might want to reconsider painting those etchings back on as it could really cause you some bigger issues, Sam,” Crowley smirked and then waved his hand to throw the hunter across the hall, pinning him the wall nearest an open door…near Dean’s door; the door to the room with his brother’s dead body. “I know what you wanted, Sam. I know what happened even if you aren’t fully aware of it all yet.”

“Aware? Aware of what? That my brother’s dead?” Sam strained to get free before he finally gave a frustrated sound and slumped against the wall where he was held, wishing for just one punch to Crowley’s face. “I’m more than aware of that, thanks. I held him as he died. I watched the life go out of him and I cleaned him up so I know what happened too and I know that since this is your fault you’re going to fix it!”

“My fault? How the soddin’ hell do you think this is my fault?” Crowley put on his best innocent face, power easily holding the now struggling again hunter still while his eyes shifted to the side just slightly. “You might want to take that up with the feather head that stabbed him.”

Sam sneered, fingers clenching into helpless fists at the inability to free himself and that the demon could actually use his powers inside the bunker. “Oh, I’ll do that…just as soon as you bring Dean back to life. And this time I’m not taking no for an answer,” he was too focused on his anger and grief to catch the slight noise from inside the bedroom, like something hitting the wall.

“Before when his deal came due all your goddamn Crossroad demons were too scared of Lilith to make a deal with me to save him but this time, this time since you took him to Cain, you got that Mark put on his arm because you wanted to use him to kill Abbadon…this time you will save my brother and…” he swallowed thickly. “…and I’ll give you whatever you want including my life.”

Crowley lifted a brow curiously as that offer. He’d known before what Sam was summoning him for. He’d known it would come when he got wind what had happened. He just wasn’t expecting how desperate the younger Winchester would be. Even after all these years of being a thorn in their sides these two nightmares in denim never ceased to amaze him with the depth they’d go to save one another.

Considering what he knew that Sam didn’t yet, the demon wondered briefly just what Sam would do once he learned the truth.

“When will you learn that you can’t always fix things with deals and spells, Moose?” he chided, walking closer after he made certain his power would keep the hunter from breaking loose and ripping his throat out because Crowley knew just what a pissed off Sam Winchester was like and he was 99.9% certain that Sam would soon be more than pissed off.

“When Dean and I are both dead and there’s no one left to bring us back,” Sam shot back, gasping as the sudden pain in his chest and glared at the demon. “That it, Crowley? You think you can kill me now that Dean’s dead? Free yourself of us both in one day? Go ahead,” he suddenly stopped fighting so much as the memory of wiping the blood off his brother’s cooling skin hit him and suddenly all Sam wanted was to curl up and sob. “Since I’m not a waiting vessel for Lucifer this time around, maybe if I die this time I’ll stay dead unlike the last time my brother was killed and I tried so many times only to be brought back.”

Another sound from the bedroom was heard but Sam was still too focused on Crowley and his grief to notice it. “So if you won’t undo what you caused then do me a damn favor and just kill me, Crowley.”

“Oh, I would so love to kill you, Moose,” Crowley returned as he took another step closer to the pinned hunter. “You have consistently ruined all my evil plans, you have killed my demons and turned me into a human blood junkie on top of everything else you’ve done since the night I had the unfortunate dishonor of meeting you Winchesters. So I could very easily kill you without a second…oh bollocks,” he muttered when he encountered a sudden surge of energy that was very different from his own and also something he hadn’t countered on this soon.

“And I’ll kill you in the next breath if you don’t let Sam go and step the hell away from him.”

The deep husky voice that suddenly spoke had Crowley rolling his eyes and had Sam’s eyes snapping back open to try to look for it but he was still being held and unable to find… “Dean,” he gasped.

“ _Hel-lo_? King of Hell. Knight of Hell. Does the ranking in those two things mean something to you?” Crowley complained but frowned more when the surge of energy did more than stop him and it actually pushed him back several steps as the tall, lean, rugged body of Dean Winchester stepped between him and Sam but only Crowley could see the flash of the man’s eyes from deep green to pure black and wondered if this was going to be worth it in the end.

“Go ask anyone, angel or demon, who tried to control me or use me or enslave me how well that worked for them, Crowley,” Dean’s lips curled in a dark sneer. “Go pull Alastair’s ashes back from wherever demons go when killed, how well trying to control me in Hell worked cause while I broke, I broke for a reason and he never truly owned me like he wanted.”

“Oh, I know that. I had to listen to that nasally whine for 40 years when he’d bitch about you,” Crowley waved a hand, glancing over Dean’s shoulder at a wide-eyed hopeful Sam before meeting the older brother’s now green eyes again. “He’ll go for your throat the second he figures this out.”

Dean smirked back with just the slightly nod of his head. “I’d be disappointed if he didn’t but this is between us and I want to handle it so take yourself outta here and I’ll…I’ll meet you outside until I get a better handle on this thing you made me into and what I want to do about it.”

“What I…? You two and the blame. I didn’t do anything but lead you to the bloody man. You’re the moron who didn’t listen to the warning label that went with the bloody Mark.” Crowley muttered but with a move of his finger to release the power holding Sam he nodded and vanished as easily as he came.

Sam dropped to the floor suddenly, legs weak from the shock of seeing the brother he’d watched die, held and brought back to the bunker standing with his back to him. He wanted to blink to be sure the image was real but was almost afraid to as he tried to find his voice and get his heart out of his throat. “…Dean?” he asked hesitantly.

“Hey, little brother,” Dean’s voice sounded the same but it was deeper, shakier as if he was fighting more than emotions when he finally, slowly, turned to face his brother with just a hint of his old snarky smile curving his lips. “So, you lied huh?”

“Dean!” Sam was pushing to his feet to close the distance between them in three steps to grab his older brother and pull him into a hard desperate hug. For once not giving a crap about the long standing no chick flick moments rule that had been created years ago. He just wanted to feel Dean to make sure he was real and not imagining this.

Hugs were few and far between with them. Sam had grown up knowing to treasure the moment when his anti-emotion brother hugged him or admitted feelings in a way other than a hand to the neck or a squeeze on his arm. It was also rare for Dean to return a sudden spur of the moment hug so when he felt strong arms slip around to return his gesture Sam was surprised but just too thrilled to question it.

“I know what I said to you months ago about letting go but I was angry and hurt. You’re still my big brother, Dean. I still look up to you. I still…” Sam broke the word off before he could say it, starting to release the hug only to go still when Dean’s arms tightened enough to keep him in the gesture; almost as if his brother was hugging him to try to make up for all the times he hadn’t…as if he wouldn’t ever have another chance and slowly something began to creep into Sam’s belly that he didn’t like. “What…what did Crowley do to bring you back?” he asked suddenly, warily. “Which one of us owes him? And why did it sound like you plan on meeting up with him?”

Closing his eyes against the emotions he was surprised he could still feel, Dean wondered silently just how far he’d already been changed and how quickly the rest would come. He also wondered just how much strength he would have to resist Crowley’s plan to use him as his own Knight of Hell and how he could protect Sam from the pain this would bring.

“We need to talk, Sammy,” he began slowly, willing his voice to be steady and he held the hug for another moment; hating himself for all the times he hadn’t been willing to drop his barriers and give his little brother just this much.

“We need to get Cas here so he can look at you and make sure you’re okay,” Sam countered, blinking as the sudden strength he felt when Dean’s fingers gripped his biceps for a second before nudging him into his room. “Dean?” he frowned at the repacked duffel, noticing the items that had been removed to be placed on the desk in the room along with a folded piece of paper…a piece of paper with his name on it. “You…were you planning on skipping out on me?” he couldn’t help the brief burst of hurt anger at the thought. “Were you going…”

“No, but I figure what I put in that will explain the things that you’re not going to give me the chance to explain once what I do tell you sinks in,” Dean had been pissed when he’d woken up to figure out the change. He’d gotten more pissed off when Crowley had explained it again and then the rage turned to sick fear…for Sam and for himself. “Crowley didn’t save me, Sam. He…he didn’t bring me back.”

Sam sat down on the bottom of Dean’s bed, the bed that his brother had adored and raved over shortly after they moved into the place. His fingers played restlessly with the black bracelet he’d picked up to swallow at the pang of memory of the last time he’d seen Dean wear it or the silver ring that he also realized was on the bed.

“What?” he looked up, confused at that; his thoughts not wanting to focus as he looked to see that Dean was still pale; the wounds on his face not quite healed but the mark he could still see on his arm looked redder than it had before. “That doesn’t make sense, Dean. Crowley had to do it because I hadn’t figured out another spell yet or someone else to call and you’re walking and talking so I know you’re alive.”

Dean stood with his back to Sam while his fingers picked up the last photo of their Mom and him that he had and wondering about how disgusted their parents would be over this sudden curveball in his life. “Crowley didn’t do this, Sam. The Mark…brought me back…like it did Cain before me.”

Sam had been trying to figure out what the King of Hell was playing at when those words sank in and his eyes shot up to meet steady deep green even as his stomach was starting to twist and his hands started to shake. “It did what?” he asked in a voice barely above a whisper, praying he’d heard wrong or this was one of Crowley’s lies…even if the damn demon had a fondness for telling the truth too often, albeit a somewhat screwed up version of the truth at times. “The Mark…wait, what?”

“I need you to listen to me, Sammy. I need you to listen and try not to react before I’m done,” Dean knew Crowley had wanted to do this but if anyone was going to drive a literal knife into his brother’s heart at the thought of him becoming something they both hated, something he’d fought 40 years in hell to avoid becoming, then it would be him. “Crowley…he may or may not have known how this would play out…I have a hunch he knew something and like you said he’d been playing me from the start.

“He used the rage and pain I’ve been carrying for years to his advantage and my leap before I look attitude played right into his plot. He carefully neglected to tell me one thing about the Mark, the blade and Cain that…he probably should’ve but knew if he had I wouldn’t have taken the Mark no matter how much I wanted that red-headed bitch dead.”

Swallowing thickly and inwardly praying this wasn’t going where he suddenly feared it was, Sam’s fingers clenched on the bracelet when he caught sight of the matching one that had been his before he’d given it to Dean in Detroit…before he’d said yes to Lucifer.

“W…what?” he asked, voice shaking and vision blurring from tears he’d thought were dried up from earlier but he watched the tension rippling across Dean’s shoulders. “Dean?”

“The Mark…as you saw and probably figured out makes the bearer want to kill. In fact, you need to kill or else you get sick so the more you kill the better you feel and vice versa,” Dean left the photos where they were except for one; the one he wouldn’t go anywhere without ever plus one more. “When I woke up he repeated a story that I guess he’d told while I was still…Sam.”

Sam had made a low noise as if begging Dean not to say the word because he still couldn’t think of the word dead without wanting to throw up. “What did he do?” he demanded, voice dropping to the tone that was eerily like the one Dean could get when really pissed off at someone who tried to hurt Sam.

“Except for keeping this little point to himself we can’t really blame my return or…its aftereffects on Crowley, little brother,” Dean closed his fist to feel the power wanting to surge but shoving it down, realizing emotions brought it on faster. “I guess according to some lore and myth Crowley knew but didn’t share with the class, or me, after Lucifer gave the Mark to Cain, after he killed his brother the Mark began affecting Cain like it did me. He says that Cain didn’t…he didn’t like what the Mark was turning him into so he took his own life with the blade. But…it wasn’t that simple because it seems like the Mark doesn’t like to let go that easily and it brought him back to…life…sort of.”

“Sort of?” Sam blinked, blood turning cold and his chest was hurting from not breathing until the spots in front of his eyes reminded him that he needed to do that. His stomach was churning and he was fairly certain if he didn’t throw up he’d pass out because he did not like what his brain was saying now. “What does sort of mean?” he demanded, refusing the obvious because he could not, would not allow himself to think that Dean, his brother, the man who’d raised him and taught him what he knew had been brought back to life by the Mark on his arm or that he… “Dean?”

“When I told you back there that I was okay with dying because this thing on my arm was turning me into something I didn’t want to be…well, this wasn’t quite what I meant when I said that,” there was no easy way to say what he’d have to and Dean knew without looking that by now Sam’s face would be pale and those damn huge eyes would be filled with tears and close to full on emotional puppy dog eyes that would break him faster than the hate he expected to come soon as well.

Sam was struggling to make sense of that, of what Dean was saying and how it applied to this situation when it suddenly started to click.

Cain had killed himself with the blade, with the Mark on and the damn Mark had brought him back. Cain became a…and that was the moment when all sanity fled and Sam Winchester’s already rocked world took a hit that he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover from.

“No,” he breathed, face paling, head buzzing as he fought the pounding of his own heart as he tried to stand only to fall back when his legs were suddenly too weak and too rubbery to hold him. “No, no, no,” he chanted softly, fighting the urge to slap himself to wake up from what had to be a brutal nightmare because this just could not be happening. He couldn’t have gotten his brother back only to have him tell him what he thought Dean was trying to. “Dean? Look at me, please,” he pleaded softly, tears falling down his cheeks without him even caring. “De’n?”

It was the dropped letter in his name that had Dean swearing under his breath. He stayed still for a long moment before finally turning to face his wide eyed sibling to offer a small sad smile that conveyed more than words ever could between them and knew the second true realization hit Sam. “Say it, Sam,” he knew what was on the tip of Sam’s tongue and wished it didn’t have to be this way.

Of all the fights they’d had over the years growing up to when they began hunting together again he knew seeing the hate and disgust on his little brother’s face now over seeing what he’d finally let himself be turned into would hurt more than any other wound he’d ever had…except for this last one.

“No,” Sam tried to refuse, sick at heart and scared out of his mind at what this meant for them, for Dean. “Please don’t make me say that word, Dean,” he begged, unwilling to say the word that would show him what he was in denial of but as his brother kept watching him with the look he knew meant he had to Sam took a shaky breath. “ _Christo_ ,” he murmured and then felt his heart break on a brutal sob when those green eyes he’d been looking into since he was a baby suddenly flashed black. “Oh God!”

In the years since he’d realized how screwed up their lives were nothing had shocked or torn Sam apart as seeing that and he didn’t even bother to try to stay standing when his legs gave out and he went to his knees on Dean’s floor; bitter tears streaming down his face while his throat burned from screaming without even realizing he was doing it.

It was finally a hesitant but still gentle touch to the back of his neck that made him jerk his head up to see Dean was kneeling beside him but his body language told Sam that his brother was tense, unsure and ready to dodge an attack.

“I…I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Sam whispered, ashamed that it was so hard to look at Dean’s rugged face now. “I…”

“You didn’t cause this, Sam. I did by taking the Mark without listening to the warnings or caring about the consequences,” Dean had been leery of approaching his brother. He expected anger, disgust, a demon blade to his still sore chest but when Sam had practically crawled into a corner while screaming his lungs out in the same denial that Dean felt the part of him that was still Sam’s big brother react. “I was probably back alive or whatever this is before you were done trying to summon Crowley…which just for the record if you ever try killing yourself again…I will kick your ass.”

The snort of wild laughter bubbled out before Sam could stop it, dropping his head to rest on his drawn up knees to slowly peek from under the hair that had fallen into his bangs to look at his brother.

Right now Dean looked like Dean. He looked like him, he sounded like him and it was only the knowledge that if Sam said one word or if his brother got close to the Impala’s trunk what would happen that sickened him but not for the reason that he knew any other hunter would feel. He was sick with grief and fear that this was the one thing he couldn’t fix.

“Crowley’s using you,” he finally murmured, hating that demon more than he had nearly any other in years as well as that goddamn angel. “He…”

“Yeah, I know what he thinks he’s going to do but despite what this Mark is doing to me I’m still in control and can resist being his little weapon,” Dean kept his hand on Sam’s neck a moment more, needing that connection as much as his brother did. “You know why I can’t stay here, right?”

Sam did but he hated it. “You don’t know what this is doing to you and until you can figure it out or make Crowley slip up and reveal it you don’t trust yourself to be around me,” he glanced down at the feel of something being slipped over his wrists to see both bracelets, frowning up in confusion.

“I meant to give you the one after we ditched Robo-you but I never found the time,” Dean began slowly, fighting back the emotions and ignoring the burn in his veins. “Now you can hold onto mine for me…until you find a way to get this Mark off my arm because until it’s gone you can’t even use the demon blade…Sammy,” he narrowed his eyes when Sam started shaking his head. “You know how this needs to play. I won’t be a weapon and I won’t be what this is turning me so…”

“I nearly cured Crowley so I can…cure you,” Sam’s brain was moving at light speed, desperate for any way to help his brother so he wouldn’t be forced to take that final step. “My blood can…”

Ignoring his common sense Dean’s hands were on his brother’s face to hold it still while making him meet his gaze, mild panic there at what Sam was saying. “No. If you use your blood, can cure me then the odds are good that would complete the 3rd Trial and you’d be dead,” he refused that risk, careful of his grip when he stopped the argument he knew was coming. “I’m not saying you can’t try the cure but not with your blood. I’ll have enough death on my hands because of this without adding you to it.”

“I’ll make Cas do it or find me a human with pure enough blood to do it but I will get the cure to work this time,” Sam would make it work this time. It had nearly worked on Crowley and he’d been a demon for hundreds of years.

Whatever this was had to still be in its beginning stage so he stood a better chance at curing his brother…as soon as he found a way to get the Mark off and back where it belonged.

“I’ll find Cain, Dean. I’ll find him and make him take it back or tell me how to get rid of it,” Sam promised, reaching his hand up to grip his brother’s wrist. “I will make this right.”

“You can’t go hunting Cain by yourself, Sam,” Dean wished he trusted himself enough to stay where he was but he knew right now the safest place for Sam was far away from him. “Take Cas or…”

“Cas will be busy in Heaven or whatever he’s doing. I’m…” Sam had to move, he had to put distance before he lost it fully to he pushed to his feet to move across the bedroom to look at the base of the lamp, at the photos still there. “I’m alone. I was taught by the best so I’ll do what I need to in order to get this damn thing offa you and then I’ll get you back. I’ll make you proud of me, Dean.”

Dean stood to watch Sam’s shoulders shake and knew he was doing his best not to cry. “Hey, you need to fix that tattoo ASAP,” he wished they’d done it earlier or that he’d had Castiel do it before now because he wasn’t going to let any demon use Sam against him even in this form. “Get your ass to town in the morning and have it put back on because if this gets out to any anti-Crowley demons who might think he’d got a super weapon they could come after you so get that fixed.

“I’m leaving the Impala with you since without the trunk it’s pretty useless to me right now so take care of my wheels or…” he paused to see Sam looking over his shoulder with sad eyes as they both recalled the last time he’d said those words to him and suddenly dying of a damaged heart didn’t seem so bad. “Since you actually let me get all this out, when you read that letter…just skim to the last part. I probably won’t call you but if anything bad happens or something happens then you call me, little brother.”

“Am I still that?” Sam wasn’t sure what the hell made him ask that but as he noticed the photos and realized which two were missing he knew the answer even before he heard a low chuckle.

“No matter what I become or what happens between us you will always be my pain in the ass little brother, Sammy,” Dean assured him and felt a tug and knew he needed out if only to kick Crowley’s ass for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

He longed to hug the boy he’d watched turned into the man in front of him but decided to wait until he was cured or dying again because he wouldn’t risk anything rubbing off on Sam and making him more of a target than he might already be.

Picking up his repacked duffel, Dean paused at the door to look back when he felt eyes on him but couldn’t bear to turn to see the heartbreak in Sam’s eyes so he merely offered a slow smile that he knew Sam would see in the mirror. “I am proud of you, Sammy,” he said in a choked voice and then stepped out to walk out of the bunker that he hoped he’d see as himself one more time before the end while offering a muted prayer that someone look after his brother as well as a clipped message to Castiel to do the same.

It took every ounce of willpower for Sam not to charge after Dean, to try to force him to stay but knew that until he had a better idea of what he was dealing with that his brother was right.

Sam couldn’t fight the power of the Mark and he’d try to find a way to keep an eye on what Dean was doing but first he’d fix his anti-possession tattoo and then get Castiel’s feathered ass back to Earth to help him locate Cain.

He picked the folded paper up to open it with shaking fingers. Sam skimmed the most of it which was basically what Dean had just told him. It was when he got to the end that Sam once again slid to the floor to let his tears flow as he read the last two lines in the letter.

“‘ _I love you, little brother. Don’t ever think I didn’t or that I’m not proud of you. I am and I will find a way to fight this until you find a way to cure this mess. Watch your back, be careful and…goodbye, Sammy_.’”

“Not goodbye, Dean,” Sam whispered to the suddenly empty and hollow room, determination growing. “Never goodbye and I will get you back,” he vowed and knew that he would no matter who he had to go through to do it, Sam knew he would fix this some way because he would not let Crowley have his brother without a fight.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> *Holds out tissues* Thanks for reading. I tried for as much a not too heart breaking ending as I could get since there was no way to do a purely happy one given the state of what is sure to come.


End file.
